


Febuwhump 2021: Stranger Things Edition

by usa123



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Hurt Jim Hopper, Hurt Jonathan Byers, Hurt Nancy Byers, Hurt Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Joyce Byers, Protective Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Sleep Deprivation, Supernatural Elements, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29053386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usa123/pseuds/usa123
Summary: A series of unrelated prompt fills for Febuwhump 2021.Alt 6 (Day 1 Replacement): "Don't Try To Pin This On Me". With Hopper's help, the Stranger Things teens dispatch a supernatural creature.Day 6: Insomnia.After his first encounter with the demogorgon, Steve is having a hard time settling back into everyday life.Alt 9 (Day 12 Replacement): Gunpoint. After everything supernatural Steve had dealt with the past two years, this was how he was going to go: shot by a human who was most likely raiding Melvald's cash register for a few hundred bucks.Day 25: Car Accident. Steve and Hopper are run off the road.
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151156
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	1. Alt 6 (Day 1 Replacement): Don't Try To Pin This On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Febuwhump 2021! I will be filling the prompts in four fandoms— _Supergirl_ , _Timeless_ , MCU/Avengers and _Stranger Things_ —and will be posting one work for each fandom filled with only the chapters that belong to that fandom.
> 
> A full list of prompts is available on febuwhump's Tumblr, or on my own ([usaOneTwoThree](https://usaonetwothree.tumblr.com/)) under the [#febuwhump tag](https://usaonetwothree.tumblr.com/search/febuwhump). On my Tumblr, there's also my finalized plan for the month if you want to look ahead.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alt 6 (Day 1 Replacement): "Don't Try To Pin This On Me". With Hopper's help, the Stranger Things teens dispatch a supernatural creature.

"Does someone want to explain this?" Chief Jim Hopper asked as he walked into the station to find three bruised and battered teenagers sitting in the waiting area and looking anywhere but up at him.

Jonathan, who was pushing a spec of dirt around with his toe, was the first to answer. "It was Steve's fault."

The floppy-haired kid who was currently sporting a black eye and a bruised lip jolted upright, eyes blazing. "Don't try to pin this on me! Nancy was the one who said this would be a quick and easy job."

"And it should have been," she said, finally looking up as well. She had a few small cuts on her face that seemed minor, but was holding her wrist close to her chest. "If someone would have remembered their bat."

"I didn't know the shitheads had taken it out of my trunk," Steve repeated with great exasperation, and Hopper got the sense this was not the first time he'd given this defense. "But if we're passing around blame, Jonathan was the one whose lighter was out of juice."

"I wouldn't have needed the lighter if you'd have brought the bat."

Steve's face pinched suddenly and he rubbed deep at his right eye socket.

Hopper took a few steps forward and caught Steve's hand. "Don't touch that," he ordered. He waited until Steve's wrist went slack before he released Steve's arm and shifted so he was facing all of them.

"Now, I want to hear what happened. In order, and preferably from one person."

Steve and Jonathan instantly looked at Nancy, who sighed.

"We heard reports of something running through Mr. McNally's yard late at night. So we camped out there and saw it."

It took everything Hopper had in him not to groan. They were _children_ —independent of their actual age—and were far too young to have experienced everything they had over the past two years. But now, apparently the teens were going out of their way to find trouble. As if he didn't have enough to worry about already with Eleven starting school in the fall…

"Chief?"

Hopper looked up to see Nancy staring at him, and realized he was rubbing his forehead quite vigorously.

"What happened after you saw the creature at McNally's place?" he asked, as an ache sparked behind his eye.

"We followed it into the woods."

Hopper might have actually groaned out loud, based on the concerned looks from the teens.

"Go on," he said through gritted teeth.

"And we chased it through the woods," Nancy continued, a little more hesitantly.

"Did you see what it was?"

"Well, it wasn't a demodog."

"Thank God," Hopper deadpanned. Then realized he should actually probably be a little bit thankful it wasn't.

"We think it was Bigfoot."

Hopper pawed at his ears, wanting to be sure he'd heard that correctly. If someone else had said that a few years ago, he would have laughed them out of the room. It wasn't quite off the table yet, but he was reserving judgement until he had the full story.

"Bigfoot," he repeated slowly. "Like the mythical creature no one can get a picture of?"

"Except Jonathan might have."

"Did you get the film developed?"

Nancy turned to Jonathan, silently cuing him to explain.

"It swiped the camera out of my hand." Jonathan held the limb up, showing a wrist messily wrapped in once-white bandages, now striped with three lines of red.

"Did any of you think of going to the hospital?" Hopper asked, already knowing what the answer was. When they all shook their heads, he pulled the truck's keys off the ring. "Well that's where we're going now. Then you can tell me the rest."

* * *

In the waiting room, the Chief sussed out more of the story. The teens had chased Bigfoot into the woods, where it'd disappeared and come up behind them. It'd thrown Steve into a tree, elbowed Nancy out of the way, and swiped the camera out of Jonathan's hand.

"It was taaaaallllll," Steve said with a slight slur, thanks to the painkillers he'd been given for his injuries. No concussion this time, which was a serious win given his medical history. "And biiiiiig."

"We heard you the first time," Nancy said, patting Steve's hand.

"What made it stop?" Hopper asked, finally realizing the part of the story he didn't understand.

"What?"

"What made it stop? It had the three of you out for the count and it ran away."

"I still had my rifle," Nancy said with a shrug. "Was trying to line up a shot."

"Something that big is not scared of a rifle," replied Hopper. "Unless it's what your rifle could have been firing. Rock salt, silver bullets."

Nancy considered this. "I suppose so," she finally said. Then she looked over at Hopper. "So when are we going back?"

" _We_? There is no _we_! I'm going back, alone. What would Joyce say if she heard you were all out fighting monsters? Actually, does she even know you're here?"

"I'm supposed to be at Nancy's for the weekend," Jonathan said as he shuffled into the waiting room, holding his discharge paperwork.

"And I suppose you're supposed to be at his place?"

"Not that my parents care."

Jesus.

"Okay, you are all going back to Harrington's. I will come find you when Bigfoot is dispatched."

"Or we can go with you," Nancy pressed, "and get the job done faster."

"No." With that, Hopper stood and gestured to the door. The three followed sullenly into the truck, Jonathan and Steve climbing in the backseat while Nancy took shotgun.

"If you don't take us with, we'll just go out on our own," she said, crossing her arms over her chest with a wince.

That was low, and from her reaction, she knew it, but she held her ground.

"Fine," Hopper groaned after hashing out all the possibilities in his head. "You can come with. But you'll stay behind me and do exactly as I say." He whirled around in his seat, eyeing both Steve and Jonathan. "Promise me."

"I promise," Jonathan mumbled, which Steve repeated.

Hopper then looked over at Nancy, who nodded.

"Verbally."

"I promise."

"Good." Then he started the car and headed for his cabin.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Joyce Byers demanded later that night as she hurried into Hopper's cabin to find Hopper, Jonathan, Nancy and Steve huddled together on the couch, grinning widely through an assortment of bruises.

"Joyce?" Hopper said in confusion.

"Mom!" Jonathan exclaimed, shooting up from the couch and hiding a glass of something behind his back.

"Are you alright?" she asked, walking over to Jonathon and looking him up and down. With the exception of a bandage around his wrist which looked to have been neatly secured by a medical professional and a singed bit of hair over his ear, he seemed to be healthy and in one piece.

"Yeah," he said, subconsciously rubbing at the back of his neck with his bandaged hand.

She reached out and tapped her hand under his chin.

"Honestly?"

Jonathan nodded. "Honestly."

"And the rest of you?" She looked over her shoulder at Steve and Nancy, who, while bruised, were also whole and returning her eye contact.

"Yes," Nancy replied. Steve just nodded, very very quickly, his eyes wide in barely concealed panic.

"Good." Joyce took a deep breath then repeated her original question with as much nonchalance as she could manage.

"Don't try to pin this on me this time," Steve mumbled in exasperation. "I only signed up for one monster run."

"Monster…" the words died in Joyce's mouth.

She sat on the coffee table in front of Hopper, who had the decency to look somewhat ashamed.

"I think you better tell me the whole story," she said. "And then I'll decide if I'm leaving your corpse in the woods for taking my child on a monster hunt."

"We were going with or without him," Nancy piped up, clearly trying to make the situation better and failing spectacularly.

Joyce just shot her a deadly look. "I'll deal with the three of you later."

She freed the bottle Hopper was trying to conceal between him and the couch and took a long swig.

"Alright," she said as she put it on the table beside her, not fully relinquishing her grip on it. "Tell me the whole story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: _Day 2: "I Can't Take This Anymore"_ , which will be a Bucky Barnes-centric time loop fic, posted under "Febuwhump 2021: Avengers Edition".
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope to see you tomorrow!


	2. Day 6: Insomnia.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Day 6: Insomnia._ After his first encounter with the demogorgon, Steve is having a hard time settling back into everyday life.

Steve wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd slept. Actually, he wasn't sure what day it was. He'd probably definitely missed some school, basketball, maybe even a date or two.

And yet it didn't matter.

All that mattered was the fear slowly crushing the life out of him. Fear of the demogorgon, fear of the Upside Down, fear of whatever else was out there. How could he sleep knowing all that?

So he didn't. He salted the doors and windows in case that would help, installed an extra set of locks on all the doors (with an assist from Dustin after Steve almost sliced open his hand with the screwdriver), and barricaded the windows.

It was a good thing his dad wasn't home.

He couldn't remember the last time he left the house… nor, for that matter, the last time he showered… or ate.

He oscillated between all the lights being on—so he could see what was happening in the shadows—and them all being off—so nothing else could see him. He did hourly perimeter walks, holding his bat high above his head.

And still the fear didn't recede.

But that was okay. He'd fought a demogorgon, damn near stepped in a bear trap, and had survived high school. He could handle this too.

He hoped.

As time wore on, he was less and less sure.

Maybe he should call someone: his mom, Nancy. A psychiatrist, to have him committed to a padded room.

Joyce.

That one sounded plausible.

But he didn't. Harringtons didn't show feelings, didn't have emotions.

It was all bullshit.

And so he paced, checked, jumped. Survived.

He'd been awake so long his eyes burned, and he found himself nodding off while walking. He'd woken up on the ground, on couches, not sure how he'd gotten there, so at least he was getting _some_ sleep. But _not_ being awake, _not_ being vigilant, terrified him even more, and made him fight harder against sleep's seductive pull.

He couldn't keep this up—somewhere he _knew_ that—but it was what he had to do. For his own sanity.

Or whatever was left of it.

Dustin stopped by, once. Took a look at the place, and asked if Steve wanted to stay with them.

Steve refused. They didn't need his level of crazy.

Now though, he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he should have said yes.

There was a knock on the door and Steve jumped. He had been nodding off.

He grabbed his bat and crept toward the door.

"Who is it?" he growled.

"It's us, Steve."

 _Us_?

"Dustin and the gang. Well, except for Mike, cos you're dating his sister."

 _Oh_.

"C'mon, Steve. Open the door, or we'll pick the lock."

Somehow he didn't doubt that they would.

He put the bat down by the door—if the dweebs really were possessed, they wouldn't be able to step over the salt line—and cracked open the door.

"What do you want?"

Dustin pushed by him in an instant, easily stepping over the salt.

"I've heard stories about this place, but—" he trailed off to whistle "—it's better than I imagined." Then he turned back to Steve. "Where's your kitchen? We brought pizza."

"Huh?"

"Kitchen. The place where you make all the food."

Dustin was staring at him expectantly, so Steve managed to lift a hand to point.

"Good. You use china in this place, or paper plates?" he asked as he wandered off.

"Hey, Steve," Lucas said, shoving the pizza box into Steve's hands before following Dustin.

Will was the last to follow, nodding at Steve, then sprinting to catch up to Lucas.

Steve's brain finally stuttered into motion. "What are you shitheads doing here?" he asked as he trailed them into the kitchen, where Dustin was kneeling on the countertop to retrieve a stack of plates.

"Checking on you." Again, it was said in a tone that suggested that was obvious. "You're a tangential member of the party now."

"The what?"

Dustin turned back, mouth open like he wanted to explain. "Never mind," he said as he hopped down and handed out plates.

"What channels do you get here?" he asked, grabbing a slice and heading into the living room. Steve trailed behind him yet again, not quite understanding what was going on, as Dustin dropped onto the couch and fetched the television remote.

Then, his eyes widened and he turned to Steve. "You have a VCR?"

"Yes?"

"We are _so_ coming over here more often." Then Dustin made a swooping motion with his hand. "Grab a slice and join us."

"It is my house," Steve said, before mechanically doing as he was asked.

On the couch, he stared at the pizza.

"It's not going to attack you," Dustin said as he inhaled another slice.

Steve took a bite, then another larger one as his stomach rumbled.

"Geez, when was the last time you ate?"

Steve hummed noncommittally as he ate, and ate, and ate.

His stomach full, he leaned back against the couch, for once not feeling the impending sense of doom pressing against him.

"Rest," Dustin said, when Steve's eyes snapped open. "We'll keep guard."

Steve didn't want to, but he allowed himself to listen.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, the kids were gone. His house was empty, the bat propped up on the couch next to him. He looked around for any leftover pizza, but there wasn't any... not even the box. Clearly, they took what was left with them. Except, Steve thought they'd eaten it all.

He walked to the kitchen, but the trash was empty. No dishes in the sink. And the scuff marks Dustin had left on the counter while reaching for the plates were gone. No way the kids cleaned that.

He stepped back out into the hall to find his front door bolted from the inside, and the chain lock attached.

They had never been here.

He'd dreamed the whole thing.

Steve allowed himself a moment to feel sad about something that never was, about a sense of belonging that he'd felt with a group years younger than him, before he straightened his spine and grabbed his bat, and did another check of the perimeter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: _Day 7 (Poisoning)_ : When a basket of Al's wings are poisoned, one member of the DEO ( _Supergirl_ ) pays the price.
> 
> Thanks for reading! See you tomorrow!


	3. Alt 9 (Day 12 Replacement): Gunpoint.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alt 9 (Day 12 Replacement): Gunpoint_. After everything supernatural Steve had dealt with the past two years, this was how he was going to go: shot by a human who was most likely raiding Melvald's cash register for a few hundred bucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is AU after season two.

At this exact moment in time, there was nothing Steve regretted more than taking this call so Hopper could leave early for his date with Joyce.

It was supposed to be a milk run: a prowler hanging around Melvald's. By the time Steve had gotten there, the prowler had broken in, and when Steve had followed, he'd found himself staring down the business end of a handgun.

Worse, he was supposed to check in outside, but he had chosen to wait until he had a better handle on the situation, which meant no one knew he'd arrived on scene.

After everything supernatural he'd dealt with the past three years, this was how he was going to go: shot by a human who was most likely raiding Melvald's cash register for a few hundred bucks.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to put the gun down."

"I'm not a sir," a female voice said behind the ski mask.

 _Oh, shit_ , Steve almost said, but he very quickly recovered with a more appropriate, "I'm going to need you to put the gun down, _ma'am_."

"Why? So you can arrest me?"

"Yes. You're breaking and entering."

"The door was open."

"No, it wasn't."

In the gap in the ski mask, the woman's eyes narrowed. There was something about that voice that was familiar to Steve. He'd heard it before, but where?

"It's my word against yours," she finally said.

"Look, I called it in already." It was a lie, but hopefully the thief didn't know that. "Chief Hopper will be here soon, and trust me, you do _not_ want to deal with him tonight. He's had his pants in a wad all day over his date—"

"With Joyce Hopper, I know. And no, you didn't call it in. You stopped the car, got out and headed straight in here."

Then, the woman's eyes widened in surprise, as if realizing she'd said too much.

Steve had already keyed in on it. "How did you know that?" he asked, trying to keep his expression from matching hers.

"I hear things," she fumbled. "Or I'm crazy observant. Whichever answer you like better." Then, she readjusted her stance. "Look, I'm just gonna get what I came here for, and leave. You can stand there the whole time and make this easy, or I can pull the trigger."

"I can't let you do that."

Her finger tightened on the trigger. "You're willing to die over a few hundred bucks, cop?"

"I won't with the safety off."

In that instant, Steve lunged, ducking slightly, while reaching up and grabbing her arms. The two of them fought for a moment, but he managed to elbow her in the stomach and slide the gun from her slack grip and trained it on her.

At least, he tried to.

The weight was all wrong—far too light—causing him to way overcompensate on bringing it around.

And did he hear it _sloshing?_

"A water gun?!" Steve asked in disbelief.

It was only when he heard the sound of a rapidly receding shuffle that he dropped the water gun to the floor and pulled out his service weapon.

"Stop," he ordered, disengaging his own safety.

The woman did.

"Turn around."

She did that as well.

It took Steve a minute to formulate his thoughts. "Do you know what a terrible idea that was? I could have shot you! I thought that gun was real."

"That's the idea," the woman said primly.

Steve blinked. Maybe she hadn't understood. "I could have _shot_ you," he repeated.

"I heard you the first time."

"Do you realize how crazy that is? And trust me, I've _seen_ my fair share of crazy. This is up there."

The thief didn't seem fazed. "So are we going to stand here all day, Officer, or are you going to arrest me?"

"Arrest you." Steve then motioned for her to turn around while he fetched his handcuffs and closed them around her wrists.

"Are you going to search me? Check for any other 'weapons' I might be carrying?"

"Yes, I am," Steve said, somewhat irritated and thrown off-guard by the woman's cavalier attitude. "Now will you please be quiet and let me do my job?"

He didn't exactly hear what she said, but there was something about her grumble that again struck him as familiar. Instead of moving forward to search her, he stayed where he was.

"What's your name?" he finally asked.

"Like I'm going to tell you."

And that's when Steve recognized her voice.

"Robin? From Ms. Click's history class?"

Steve was pretty sure Robin's mouth dropped open underneath the ski mask.

"You recognized my voice?"

"Well, yeah. That's what you said every time Click called on you."

"I didn't even know you knew my name."

" _Everyone_ knew you. And to be honest, everyone was a little awestruck by the way you refused to answer."

Robin snorted. "This coming from the guy who never did the reading."

"Hey, I didn't say _I_ was awestruck. Just that some people were."

Robin was quiet for a moment. "So Steve 'The Hair' Harrington grew up to become a cop, huh? I have to admit, I did _not_ see that coming."

"Can't say I did either, but here we are."

After a beat, Steve very slowly holstered his weapon, retrieved the key for the handcuffs and unlocked them.

"You gonna let me go, Hair?" she asked, still facing into the store.

"Yeah, this time."

Robin slowly turned around, her fingers massaging her wrists. "You're not worried about me breaking in to somewhere else? Pulling the same maneuver on some other dingus with a gun?"

"Not really."

Robin blinked. "You barely know me."

"Call it a gut feeling," Steve said with a shrug. "I gotta tell ya though, I wasn't lying when I said Chief Hopper was in a mood. If he'd gotten this call, you'd be downtown already, behind bars for the night. So if I were you, I'd put an end to this right now." Then Steve paused. "What did you want anyway?"

"Money."

Leaving the left hand high in the air, Steve very slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I have thirty… ten… forty-two dollars. Will that cover it?"

Robin made no motion to accept the money. "Why are you helping me?" she asked suspiciously.

"Gut feeling. And if I never get another call about you breaking into stuff, we'll call it square."

"You're really just going to let me go? You're not going to shoot me in the back?"

"Not tonight," Steve said, then when she looked unsure, added, "I was kidding. Now get out of here before I change my mind."

Shaking her head quickly, Robin reached out and snatched the money before slipping out the way she came.

After bending down to pick up the water gun, Steve took a stroll up and down the aisles, not seeing anything missing, before walking through the front door and locking it behind him. Then, sitting in the truck, he pulled out the walkie.

"It was a false alarm," Steve said while popping open the glove box and throwing the water gun in. He'd throw it away at his place later, or maybe just drive it to the landfill.

"At Melvald's?" Flo asked, her voice crackling over the connection. "Cathie Baker was so sure."

"There may have been a prowler but they were gone by the time I got there."

"And you walked around the place and checked the doors and windows?"

"Yes, Flo."

"Good, cos you know the last time you forgot that, Hopper almost skinned you alive."

"Thanks for the reminder." Steve pawed at his ears, which were aching in sympathy. "You got anything else for me, or can I head back to the station?"

"Head back," Flo drawled. "Maybe it'll be a slow night."

Steve took another look at the water gun then closed the glove box. "We'll see, Flo. We'll see."

* * *

Three months later, Steve walked into the station to find an envelope on his desk.

"Some girl dropped it off," Flo reported. "Dark hair, sailor's outfit, pen all up and down her hands."

It was Robin. It had to be.

Steve had tried to find her after their run-in at Melvald's, but he hadn't been able to locate any of her records, and none of their old classmates seemed to know what happened to her. Without wanting to bring more attention to the matter, Steve'd been forced to let it go.

Now, he sat down at his desk and gingerly opened the envelope. Forty-two dollars and a hastily folded note slipped out.

_Thanks for the solid, dingus. Got me out of a tough sitch._

_If you're ever in Indianapolis, stop by Scoops Ahoy. All you can eat, on me._

Grinning, Steve slid the note back into the envelope and the money into his wallet. Next time he was in the area, he was definitely going to take her up on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and rewrote this, but ended up going back to the original version. Hope you guys enjoyed it, even though it is a significant AU.
> 
> Up next: _Day 13: Hiding Injury (Part 2 of Day 9: Buried Alive)_. We'll leave it as a surprise for tomorrow to discover who (Avengers) is hiding what.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought!


	4. Day 25: Car Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Day 25: Car Accident_. Steve and Hopper are run off the road.

Steve Harrington came to slowly. His ears were ringing, his head was throbbing and… was he upside down?

He wasn't sure, and the thought was making him nauseous. He was not going to puke, he told himself. He wouldn't.

He blinked hard, screwing up his face as he did so, and opened his eyes again. This time, the world was a bit steadier, but not by much. Still, Steve was able to realize he wasn't so much upside down as he was on his side, leaning left, toward…

Hopper!

Hopper was below him, slack against the window, bleeding from his forehead.

"Hopper! Chief! Jim!" Steve slurred, to no response, audible or otherwise.

Oh, God, no.

Panic was welling within him, causing his heart to race—more than it already was—and his breathing to increase… which ended up being a steadfastly bad idea when his chest began to ache.

He'd probably broken a rib or two, in the…

Crash.

That was when Steve remembered driving out to Cherry Lane to answer a noise complaint, and the car slamming into them at the intersection. They must have rolled if they were sideways, landing on the driver's side.

That was all the thinking he could manage for the moment though, as his brain began to ache in earnest.

"Okay, stay calm Harrington," he mumbled to himself as he looked around the truck. "Evaluate your surroundings." Step 2 of Hopper's survival manual.

Man, it would be nice if Hopper were awake to help them through this. He looked down and shouted Hopper's name one more time, again receiving no answer.

On his own then.

Somehow, he knew they had to get out of the truck, even if he didn't know _why_. Something the shitheads had said about gas exploding.

Which meant he had to get out of his seatbelt. He grabbed the grab bar with his right hand, then popped the seat belt release with his left. His body dropped faster than expected, and took the impact on his right leg, which crumpled immediately beneath him. As pain shot up his leg, Steve smacked into the steering wheel before he crashed into the driver's side window, landing mostly on top of Hopper.

"Sorry," Steve hissed, even though Hopper _still_ didn't respond.

"Think, Harrington, think!" he muttered as he looked around from his new vantage point.

Hopper was a big man, so there was no way Steve was dragging him up through the passenger's side door. The driver's side door was pinned down, so their only option was going through the cracked windshield.

Steve swiveled around, leaning mostly against Hopper again, and kicked at the broken windshield with his left leg. It came away from the side, and Steve crawled forward, pushing it out the rest of the way. On solid ground, he reached back in and popped Hopper's seat belt release, dragging the man as carefully as he could around the steering wheel and through the windshield.

A few long minutes later, they were both sitting by what remained of the truck. Steve was breathing hard, dark spots clouding the sides of his vision, but he knew he couldn't stop here, not if the truck was really going to explode.

They had to get farther away.

Steve looked around, trying to decide what the safest place would be. The truck had rolled off the road, into a drainage ditch, which was lower than the road. So, they had to get to high ground, away from the road.

That was so obvious, he wasn't sure why it took him so long to realize it.

Steve scrambled to his feet, trying to keep as much weight as possible off his right leg, then dug his hands into the back of Hopper's uniform, and pulled.

It took quite a bit to get Hopper moving again, but eventually he was, and Steve was hauling him backward toward the side of the ditch. Once there, Steve braced his right side against the slope, and planted with his left foot. His right arm reached up to find purchase, dragging them upward, while his left arm pulled Hopper along.

The slope was more horizontal than vertical, but even so, it was taking quite a bit of effort to pull Hopper to safety. Steve easily fell into a rhythm—plant, reach, pull, plant, reach, pull—which worked for over half of the vertical distance. But then the ground beneath Steve gave way and his left foot slipped. He tried to keep his grip with his right hand, but the change in weight was too much. They slid back down the slope until a slight outcropping where Hopper crashed down on top of him.

The air was knocked from Steve's lungs, and for a while, he could just lay there, struggling to bring in air, as his vision faded in and out.

"C'mon, Steve," he willed himself, as he pushed up with his elbows, allowing his lungs a few more inches to expand.

When he had caught the slightest breath, he slid out from beneath Hopper, and looked back up at the slope. His plan to get up to the road clearly wasn't going to work if the ground was that unstable.

There had to be another way…

"Yahtzee!"

As Steve took another scan of his surroundings, he saw the walkie still clipped to Hopper's shoulder. He scrambled to free it, pushing the side and calling out, "Flo!"

When he heard nothing in response, Steve pulled the walkie away from his ear and looked at it. Even though the side button was pressed, there was no red light.

That's when he turned it over, and cursed when he found the battery compartment ripped open and the battery missing.

Steve could only hope it had fallen out outside of the truck.

"I'll be back," he told Hopper, who was propped up against the slope of the ditch, bloodied, battered, but breathing. Then Steve slid the rest of the way down the ditch, looking desperately for the shiny metal of the battery.

He found it just outside the crumpled hood, and could have cried out in relief as his fingers closed around it. He slid it back into the walkie, and jabbed the button on the side.

The red light came on.

"Flo," he rasped, as he limped away from the truck again.

There was a crackle, then, "Harrington, is that you?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm with Hopper," Steve said as he leveraged himself up the slope again, stopping only when he was leaning on enough of the outcropping where Hopper was still sprawled to not have to hold up his weight with his right hand. "We were on our way out to Cherry Lane. Got sideswiped. Hopper, he's hurt bad." He stopped speaking, only realizing after a minute, he was still holding the button.

He released it to hear Flo's steady voice. "—sending the ambulance. Just stay there. Get away from the truck if you can."

"About ten feet away," Steve replied as his eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. He slouched down next to Hopper, leaning fully back against the slope. "Best… I could do."

"Stay with me, Steve, okay?" Flo asked, but Steve had already faded away.

* * *

He roused when the ambulance arrived and a team began carrying him up the rest of the ditch.

"You're okay, kid," one said. "Can you tell me your name?"

"S'Harringt'n."

"Charles Harrington's kid?"

His head hurt too much to nod, so Steve closed his eyes, hoping the paramedic would understand.

"Do you know what happened?"

"C'r accident."

Then someone poked his knee and Steve's vision washed out.

When he came to again, he was in the hospital, with Joyce sitting beside him, clasping both of her hands around his.

"Welcome back," she said softly.

It took another long minute for his memory to return. "Hopper!" he shouted, trying to push himself upright in bed, but not succeeding. "How's Hopper?"

"Concussion and a few broken ribs," Joyce reported. She was standing now, pushing Steve's shoulder into the bed. "He's going to be fine."

"And me?"

"Your knee is too swollen for them to tell, but you don't have any other broken bones. You were extremely lucky." Then, her expression sobered. "Steve, you didn't tell me you made me your emergency contact."

Oh shit.

"I wasn't thinking when Hopper made me sign it," Steve burst out. "I meant to talk to you about it, but it never seemed like the right time. I can change it if you want. It's not a prob—"

"No!" Joyce shook her head, grabbing Steve's hand in hers. "No, Steve. Don't change it unless you really want to."

"Are you sure?"

Joyce nodded. "I'm sure."

Steve felt his heart began to slow down again. "I'm sorry," he said, not sure why, but it felt like the right thing to say.

Joyce snorted. "You have nothing to be sorry about. The man who T-boned you two will, though, once we find him."

"They didn't find him?" Steve parroted.

"Not yet, but Callum and Powell are out looking and have asked for help from the sheriff's department tracking down the red truck that hit you."

"Red?"

"He left a swatch of paint on Hop's truck," Joyce explained. Then she shook her head. "But that's not for you to worry about right now."

"When can I get out of here?"

"They want to keep you overnight to make sure you're not bleeding internally, but then you're free to go tomorrow morning."

"And Hopper?"

"Probably a bit longer."

"Is he awake?"

Joyce shook his head. "I should probably go check on him though. Will you be okay here for a second? I can call Jonathan and Nancy to come sit with you."

It was Steve's turn to shake his head. "I'll be fine, Mrs. B. I'm just gonna sleep anyway."

Joyce nodded. "Well you know where I'll be, so just let the nurses know if you need me."

"I will," Steve said as his eyes started to drift closed.

She grabbed his hand one more time, squeezing slightly, sending a wave of warmth up his arm. It had been a long time since someone had held him like that, and he missed it.

That, however, was his last conscious thought before his eyelids turned heavy and sleep pulled him under again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: _Day 26: Recovery_. Part II to _Day 2: "I Can't Take This Anymore"_ ( _Avengers_ ). That's all I'll say about it for risk of spoilers.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought!


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